Feel

I chase
blue breath,
grinding teeth
on the brickwork
of now.

 Bury your
computer
in the soft
rubble of churned
nature.

Which secrets
do you want
to dwell inside,
Those of copper
or chlorophyl?

I chase
the sweet misery
of warm rain;
more fruitful for sentience
than dry buildings.

Insipid barricades
shelter infant nerves
from all feeling
and thus from
growth.


A Poem about why I like to be outside. Written March 2013.

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